𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒, the walking dead

2.1

❝ 𝖭𝖤𝖵𝖤𝖱 𝖠𝖦𝖠𝖨𝖭 , 𝘕𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘙 𝘈𝘎𝘈𝘐𝘕
𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖸 𝖦𝖠𝖵𝖤 𝖴𝖲 𝖳𝖶𝖮 𝖲𝖧𝖮𝖳𝖲
𝖳𝖮 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖡𝖠𝖢𝖪 𝖮𝖥 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖧𝖤𝖠𝖣
𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖶𝖤'𝖱𝖤 𝖠𝖫𝖫 𝖣𝖤𝖠𝖣 𝖭𝖮𝖶 . . . ❞

—

Heat was all Bowie could feel as he drove down the dirt roads of Georgia, Michonne shotgun in his impala. One of his CD's gently carried through the air, but the pungent smell of blood was heavy on the two survivors.

It was dark and they'd been driving for a couple of hours. Bowie found Michonne in the rubble and the pair made off while their friends all fought for their lives. He thought about Zoe, Carl, all the kids, even his brother who was dead long ago for all he knew. No matter what he thought about, though, his mind always wandered back to a certain curly-haired brunet.

"We should sleep." Michonne speaks— a sum of few words said on the drive. Bowie nods in agreement, but doesn't say anything else.

Michonne spots some sort of barn off the road, and Bowie pulls his car right in to the open doors. The two quickly secured the smaller building, boarding it up to hell and back.

Michonne wipes her hands off on her jeans, gesturing to the miniscule loft of the barn. "That's our safest bet for sleeping."

Bowie snorts, before pointing to his car. "Hell no. If a biter busts in, I'll be safe behind the metal of my car."

"You know they can see you through the windows, right?" She raises an eyebrow in amusement.

"That's what all the blankets in the backseat are for. I cover the windows from the inside, I attached a bunch of clips and stuff all over my car for just that reason." Bowie's smile is mischievous, as his is natural state. "Did you forget I was on my own for months before the prison?"

Michonne seems mildly impressed by Bowie's survival tactics, but he can tell she's going to challenge him again. "And gas?"

"A siphon is the most useful thing a man can own these days. I'm not letting go of this car, Michonne, I am very prepared." He pauses when she tilts her head as a 'touche'. "You are welcome to the front seat, if you'd like. I get the back."

"I'll take it. Let's go glamping." She teases. Bowie simply scoffs and gets inside his car, covering all the windows quickly so he could get his rest. As he and Michonne settle in, he reaches for the walkman he keeps hidden and slides the bright orange headphones over his ears, pressing 'play'.

-

Watching Rick pretend everything is okay hurt as much as most of what Ross had seen in the desolate world so far. He was thankful that Leon and Carl were old enough to handle themselves, otherwise he would have been in deep shit with Rick's current state.

he wasn't in top shape either— there was a large amount of both surface level and second degree burn marks up and down his arms. ignoring the sting was his best option, but he could tell Carl wasn't buying it, especially once Rick had found a house for them to settle down in.

Said man had passed out on the couch, presumably to give himself time to rest. He was unresponsive to any of them.

"Whatever," Carl scoffs, turning away from his father and walking into the kitchen, prompting Leon and Ross to follow.